


i'm always angry (but never at you)

by 6woojin



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Fluff, M/M, a lot of the fic seems kinda confusing i think ?? so feel free to ask if ure not sure of smthn !!, jackbum if u squint rlly rlly hard, just as a warning theres One Mean Kid whos there for literally .02 seconds lmao, yugyeom plays the guitar and dances and sings and he's just a rlly cute creative musical kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6woojin/pseuds/6woojin
Summary: yugyeom's never really heard of jinyoung before, but maybe that's a good thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just going to warn you all bc i didn't really get the chance to even reread this since i was v v short on time ?? so i'm really sorry in advance if there are any mistakes !!!!  
> i plan on going back through and fixing stuff when i have time, but for now, if you see any mistakes please don't be afraid to let me know ! :')  
> ((also i'm really sorry to the prompter bc i feel like this wasn't really what they wanted, but i hope that even if this isn't what you had in mind, you don't dislike it too much,,,,))

in retrospect, yugyeom knows it’s his fault.

honestly, he doubts there was anything in the whole mess that _wasn’t_ his fault; everything from the overturned desks to the nearly-broken chairs was a chaotic masterpiece painted with his hands alone.

and yeah, so maybe completely destroying the classroom wasn’t a good idea. and yeah, maybe it was still _his_ idea and not anyone else’s.

and yeah, yugyeom didn’t really have an excuse.

“i was tired?” he offers, blush rising when the teacher only raises a tired eyebrow.

“tired enough to trash the entire room?” she asks, and yugyeom nods meekly. the teacher only sighs, a slowness in her frown that does nothing but reflect a mirage of regret. “just stay after and clean everything up.” yugyeom nods, bowing his head as she makes her way into the hallway. he sags against the wall, shoulders slumped even as he tries to think about how he’s supposed to fix his mess.

he settles on shuffling things around and hoping for it to gradually get cleaner as he moves from corner to corner, hands tired and confused as he puts the room back in order. even as the clock ticks by and the shadows start different dances along the floor, yugyeom concentrates on little more than the feeling of a broom between his hands and the lint and trash at his feet.

“do you need help?” someone asks, and yugyeom turns around to see a stranger that he’s sure is a literal angel and an actual gift from god himself.

“um.” yugyeom says very eloquently. the boy smiles, and even though it seems more like instinct than anything else, the boy’s eyes crinkle and little dimples press against his cheeks and yugyeom feels like an emotional wreck. when the boy stays silent, standing in the doorway with a mix of forced amusement and something distant, yugyeom forces himself to breathe, “yes?” it comes out as a squeaky question, but the boy takes it in with another nod and a half-smile

“park jinyoung.” the boy murmurs, brushing past yugyeom as he begins to move around the room, moving desks and chairs and notebooks like he’s used to cleaning up other people’s messes. yugyeom is still staring, awestruck, when jinyoung shoots him a glance over his shoulder. “hey, messmaker,” jinyoung quirks an eyebrow, “what’s your name?”

“kim yugyeom,” he responds immediately, only remembering himself once the words are already past his lips. jinyoung hums his acknowledgement, casually flippant of yugyeom’s entire presence in a way that would be infuriating if it weren’t so intriguing. it’s kind of hard for yugyeom to figure out his strange (but cute) acquaintance when said acquaintance was so _off_ from how yugyeom expected him to be.

he watches, arms moving to clean the floor without paying much mind, as jinyoung flutters around the room from here to there and back here again. there’s just a slightest inkling of _something_ in the older boy’s expression that throws yugyeom off, casting shadows in the pit of his stomach that makes his chest feel tight.

his eyes sketch over the curve of jinyoung’s lips, the edge of his eyes under the sunlight, but there’s something cold in the warm light on jinyoung’s face that yugyeom’s hands could never recreate.

jinyoung turns, moving as to glance out the window, but his eyes drag across yugyeom’s expression and he stops halfway, face cloudy and distant. there’s a sort of suspicion lurking beneath his calm, and yugyeom swallows thickly.

he tries to smile, but he’s not even sure if it comes out right since jinyoung’s only response is a short, dismissive nod, one that leaves yugyeom staring at the back of the older boy’s head. it makes something nasty tug at the edge of his ribs, crackling and snapping against his skin.

yugyeom really does try to focus afterwards, keeping his gaze trained on the dust by his feet and the sweep of his broom, but his thoughts drag back to jinyoung time and time again, and his eyes only follow suit. finally, jinyoung lets out a huff, turning back around to level yugyeom with an unimpressed frown.

“do you need something?” jinyoung blinks at him, curt and tense, and yugyeom has to take a moment to collect himself before he stammers back to reality and flushes under jinyoung’s stare.

“i just,” he stumbles over his words, clumsy and embarrassed, “i think you’re really pretty.” yugyeom chokes out, and there’s only a moment of quiet and jinyoung’s eyes, unsettling and searching, before jinyoung laughs. it’s hollow, something angry brushed over with a half-hearted stroke of politeness, and it makes yugyeom’s stomach twist.

“thanks.” jinyoung says. (he doesn’t sound thankful.) he spends another moment taking in yugyeom’s eyes, the fidgeting of his hands, the awkwardness in his movements, swallowing it down like he’s afraid spending too much time will do nothing but cause him a headache.

whatever he’s looking for is missing; jinyoung turns around, making to leave, and yugyeom can feel something heavier tug at his lungs.

“wait,” he calls out, and jinyoung slows to a stop, turning to watch over his shoulder as yugyeom takes a breath, pauses. he’s not even angry at the older boy’s apathetic dismissal, not when there’s something sad burning at the edges of jinyoung’s words, so yugyeom tries to keep his voice steady and says, “i mean it.”

jinyoung blinks at him, and his gaze shifts so that it feels like he’s really _looking_ at him this time; it’s uncomfortable and tense, but yugyeom can’t help but be glad that somehow, for some reason, he got jinyoung to see him.

“okay.” jinyoung finally says, and the anger is lost, replaced by a sad confusion that yugyeom realizes had been hiding beneath his wounds all along. jinyoung turns back around, walking out of the (now clean) room like he had meant to just moments earlier, but yugyeom feels breathless.

he doesn’t understand jinyoung in any sense, but he has time, so he supposed it’s okay.

yugyeom doesn’t see him again until days and weeks have swept him up in a whirlwind of illusions and passing time. honestly, for the most part, yugyeom had mostly forgotten about the strange older boy; he still thinks about him from time to time, but pretty boys with ugly thoughts are always bound to stick out in memories, so yugyeom doesn’t think much of it.

he’s supposed to be studying, yugyeom tells himself; after all, he was lucky that his english teacher was letting him stay after in the classroom to study a little longer, but his mind is a mess and his heart seems to match.

he forces himself to read the first line of his textbook, agitation seeping like trickling water from the frown of his lips to the tensing of his hands to the curve of his fingers along the book’s edge.

yugyeom glances around him, eyes wandering the room like he wishes he could do every day, when his gaze settles on the same thing that they’ve been finding for the past hour.

it’s right within his line of sight that his guitar sits tiredly beside his desk, lonely as it rests beside him, within reach but never touched. even as yugyeom itches to reach for it and mess around for even just a few minutes, he knows that he probably shouldn’t play, not when he’s still at school and he’s really only allowed to be in the classroom so he can study hard for his upcoming exams.

but, yugyeom considers, he’s alone, and rarely anyone ever comes into the room, so surely a little destressing wouldn’t hurt.

although he’ll never admit it, yugyeom can’t help the small thrill he feels from pulling his guitar out of its case, settling it over his knee and against his chest. it’s comfortable, familiar, and yugyeom only barely hesitates before strumming hesitantly.

at some point, the chords start to echo a song he had heard that morning, gentle and quiet and achingly constant, so he goes with it, humming along and allowing lyrics to drag past his lips whenever he remembers the words.

he’s halfway through the bridge, fingers fumbling over his guitar like a tired man always finding his way home, when he hears,

“you’re pretty good.” someone notes offhandedly, and yugyeom’s head snaps up, off guard and defenseless. jinyoung barely glances in his direction, sitting at a nearby desk with his gaze dragging along the edges of ink and paper, but there’s a look in his eyes that makes yugyeom’s heart skip a beat all the same.

“thanks.” yugyeom croaks. (he sounds like a strangled frog. yikes.)

jinyoung grins, and even though it’s painted over with something dark and cocky, it still shines as the corners of his eyes crinkle into something sweet, and yugyeom smiles back.

it’s only a few minutes later that jinyoung ends up standing, book still in hand, as he leaves the room. yugyeom doesn’t even try to explain it to himself, instead settling on smiling dopily after jinyoung’s retreating figure.

(thankfully, jinyoung never turns back; it’s something yugyeom wouldn’t have been sure to wish for, but had jinyoung seen the way yugyeom looked at him in that sort of awe and reverence, he wouldn’t be able to look at the younger boy again with anything other than wariness and suspicion. after all, jinyoung had always been taught that anyone who looks at you like you’re an angel is someone who’s well versed with the other side of the spectrum.)

they don’t ever really speak afterwards; there are times when they pass by in hallways, but it’s all yugyeom can do to tear his eyes away and keep them on the ground in a pathetic facade of business. he can’t always stop himself from watching the older boy, not when jinyoung always moves around like some sort of god. yugyeom’s too careful with his words, his actions, his existence, so he never holds jinyoung’s stare when their eyes meet, never willing (or brave) enough to stay for more than a moment.

the first exception, the first time when they stop acting like strangers, is when yugyeom is spending his time unwinding in one of his classrooms. he was supposed to be cleaning the chalkboard, but one thing had led to another and instead he was freestyling to one of chris brown’s old songs, massless and vibrant even in the darkness of the classroom.

then someone opens the door, and yugyeom stops. (it doesn’t quite occur to him that the room had windows to the hallway, and that his every action had been on display for any passerby to see. even if it did occur to him, he still isn’t even sure if that would stop him.)

it’s a stranger, someone yugyeom doesn’t even recognize, but there’s something familiar in the sneer of his lips and the tilt of his head, something that he’d seen time and time again in books and movies (but never in person).

“hey, what’re you doing in here?” the guy snarls, his voice is rough and jagged as it bears down on yugyeom’s shoulders; it’s clear how much older the boy is, how much stronger and angrier, and it settles uncomfortably in the cracks of yugyeom’s mind.

“i was cleaning.” he says quietly, and he doesn’t even realize that he’s slinking away until the boy lets out a laugh, ugly and horrible.

“really?” he smirks, “because it looked like you were dancing.” there’s a pause, and then, “if you can even call it dancing.”

it makes yugyeom’s ears tint red, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to disappear and never exist; he knows he’s probably not the most talented, not when he’s never had classes and he’s always been tall and awkward and uncoordinated, but to hear someone else insult something that had made him smile only moments earlier is shattering.

“hey.” someone else says, and yugyeom glances up, half terrified, when he sees jinyoung making his way into the classroom. yugyeom opens his mouth, not even sure of what’s bound to come out, but jinyoung slides by his side with an arm around his shoulder and a careful smile on his face. “yugyeom, what’s this?”

there’s a tense beat where yugyeom can see jinyoung and the stranger lock eyes, intense and angry; and then,

“aw, how cute,” the boy snorts, but every drop of happiness yugyeom used to associate with the action is replaced with a mess of ugly strokes and rushed sarcasm, “you have a friend.”

yugyeom can’t help slinking down a little further into himself; he wants to fight back instead of taking every punch, but jinyoung is rigid yet purposefully relaxed in his spot, so yugyeom stays still and bears it. (he tries to tell himself that jinyoung cares, that he knows what he’s doing, but there’s another voice that murmurs about how jinyoung doesn’t care, that he’s only a few seconds away from speaking up and jumping to a side that isn’t yugyeom’s.)

jinyoung rolls his eyes, and it’s in that moment that he fits the epitome of everything constant and distant that yugyeom’s parents had warned him about.

(he’d never been good at either listening or self-preservation, as luck would have it. considering his interest in jinyoung neither of those things were all too surprising.)

“it’s a shame no one cares about your opinion.” jinyoung hisses, words and lips and entire existence coated with a thick venom.

this is jinyoung, yugyeom has to make himself remember, this is the boy with the soft smiles and the angry remarks, and this is the same boy who always seems to toss lazy smirks over his shoulder and swallow insults and pills side by side.

(jinyoung is a beautiful, dangerous enigma, and yugyeom has never been good with puzzles.)

the other boy only sneers in response, opening his mouth to throw together another haphazard array of insults and blades when jinyoung stands up abruptly, chair falling to the ground behind him.

“let’s go.” jinyoung snaps suddenly, and his words barely register in yugyeom’s worn down mind before jinyoung’s hand is in his, tugging him out of the room. it’s angry and rough and everything yugyeom had promised himself he’d stay away from, but there’s something kind in the warmth of jinyoung’s palm that keeps yugyeom light.

they don’t stop moving (well, _jinyoung_ doesn’t stop moving,) until they’re at least halfway across the school, wandering around a hallway that yugyeom had only briefly visited before. it makes him feel awkward and out of place, a strangeness curling into his chest that’s only furthered by jinyoung’s touch.

they sit against the wall, silence wrapping over their interlocked fingers like honey, and while jinyoung is probably still quieting his anger and his words, yugyeom is busy keeping his lips shut with hesitance. every flicker of jinyoung’s eyes is a caution sign, and every movement from yugyeom’s direction is another stretch of tape.

yugyeom has to leave not ten minutes later, weighed down with obligations and family, but he wonders what would’ve happened if he had stayed a little longer, whether jinyoung would’ve ever spoken up or let go of his hand.

(he’s not quite sure if he’d ever want to know the answer.)

somehow, the event marks something different in their acknowledgements; there’s a shift in gears as it clicks into place of something else, and suddenly they’re bumping into each other at the end of the day and walking home side by side or stopping by bakeries together on the way to school.

they’re little things, cliche things, but they make yugyeom smile all the same.

at one point, he’s considering going to a new restaurant just around the corner, but when he brings it up during lunch, he’s met with,

“i’m busy this weekend.” jinyoung hums quietly, lips pursed over the edge of his drink. his eyes are as bright as ever, but there’s something different about his gaze when he looks over to yugyeom’s spot. (as time goes on, yugyeom is starting to realize that there’s always _something_ ; as much as jinyoung exists in his wonderful, crazy extremes, there are always tiny exceptions and contradictions that make him second guess everything.)

“why?” yugyeom turns to jinyoung, head tilted to the side. jinyoung only shakes his head in response in response, a hesitant chuckle scraping past his throat. (it’s the softest melody yugyeom’s ever heard, but no one needs to know that.) “hyung.” yugyeom pouts, jutting out his lower lip in the way that always makes jinyoung roll his eyes and smile.

“it’s nothing,” jinyoung insists, unsmiling and unbearably unfamiliar, “just this band i’m a part of.”

yugyeom can’t even help the little squeak that escapes his mouth, because suddenly he’s picturing jinyoung dancing along to some upbeat pop song and leaning over microphones to rave about girls and parties and _living_ ; as nice of an image as it is, it feels like a hand against yugyeom’s throat, soft and gentle but misleading all the same- it’s not something he would’ve pictured jinyoung to willingly be a part of, but he’s been wrong about jinyoung before, so.

“it’s an alternative rock band.” jackson, jinyoung’s overdramatic friend (who yugyeom’s met a total of three times and felt pleasantly overwhelmed and appreciated on every occasion), grins matter-of-factly, and even though jinyoung pushes jackson’s shoulder, grumbling frustrations under his breath, yugyeom sees the hint of abashed pride in jinyoung’s eyes. that, or yugyeom’s imagining every minute shift in jinyoung’s expressions.

“oh,” yugyeom says, mouth a little dry; it’s all he can do not to consider jinyoung in one of those stereotypical leather jackets, worn out and decorated with holes and patches alike. it’s a picture that practically paints itself, oil and acrylic staining the inside of yugyeom’s eyelids.

jinyoung looks at him all too kindly, and it feels like a good time to ask, so yugyeom opens his mouth and tries to consider his words. (he could stay forever under jinyoung’s eyes, yugyeom figures, and the last thing he wants is to speak and end up ruining everything.)

“why do you make music?” yugyeom mumbles, his words slipping from his tongue like acid. it’s thick and jolting, but he’d rather spit it out while he can than let it keep burning holes in his stomach.

jinyoung looks at him, eyeing him like he can’t quite trust that there’s nothing else hiding beneath his question; it makes yugyeom’s heart tangle into something sad and confused, but jinyoung is still quiet, so he echoes the older boy’s silence.

“i’m in a band,” jinyoung says carefully, “because it lets me tell a story that they wouldn’t listen to otherwise.” there’s a beat, a moment of anchors and hesitation, and then,

“i’m sure someone would still listen.” yugyeom tries to assure him, fidgeting in his spot, and when jinyoung shoots him his standard unimpressed stare, yugyeom wilts. “i’d listen.” he says softly. jinyoung’s expression follows suit, and they’re left smiling stupidly at their food as jackson takes the quiet as a chance to explain his encounter with ‘jinyoung’s cute badboy friend’.

yugyeom meets said badboy friend, jaebum, when all yugyeom wants is to go home and spend his evening procrastinating by jinyoung’s side. there’s an itch in his ribs that’s too close to his heart for him to risk scratching, but jinyoung never hesitates; jinyoung always extends his hand and claws and tears without a care in the world. still, before he can turn to soft sheets and too much space, yugyeom is determined to put himself out there and kick his own nerves in the face. (the idea of it makes him feel a little giddy and anxious all at once, but he supposes that makes sense.)

when yugyeom turns the corner, all he sees at first is shadows and flickering lights; then he sees jaebum and jinyoung sitting by the end, sitting on opposite sides of the hallway as the light casts its touch along jaebum’s edges and leaves jinyoung etched in the dark. it’s such a clear contrast between the two of them, and it takes yugyeom a moment to remember that these two boys exist in things other than extremes, that they’re human just as much as he is.

yugyeom only really recognizes jaebum because of his messy hair and piercings, but as he steps closer, he realizes that he’d only need a single glance at the quiet nihility along jaebum’s edges to know who it was.

yugyeom walks forward, footsteps quiet along the linoleum floor; jinyoung’s eyes are still sharp, glinting under the classroom’s flickering lights, but jaebum’s stare is dull and dangerous. (yugyeom distantly remembers that a dull blade is always more dangerous than a sharpened one, but his mind is tired and hazy, so he doesn’t dwell on it.)

yugyeom’s moving forward, words slipping past tired lips before he can even process his actions in his sleep-ridden mind.

“jaebum hyung,” yugyeom blinks, swallowing when the older boy turns to face him (he’s already started speaking, and now it’s like the entire dam has been crushed between his teeth, so he lets the waves crash into his throat as words bubble up to the surface.

“i want to join your band.”

jaebum takes him in, and it feels so different than when jinyoung had done the same thing not so long ago; jaebum’s gaze is intense and burning, sparking flames against yugyeom’s skin, while jinyoung’s had been slowly suffocating, so gently harsh that yugyeom hadn’t realized he was drowning until he had already sunk.

they make a strange pair, yugyeom thinks, and he wonders if the two of them realize how well they balance each other out. (a tiny green monster tears at yugyeom’s ribs, vicious and unforgiving. he swallows, closes his eyes, and prays that its appetite fades before jinyoung sees the cuts along yugyeom’s stomach.)

jinyoung clears his throat, and jaebum sighs a little, sagging against the wall. it’s a look that yugyeom has become extremely familiar with over the past few weeks, something equal parts defeated and accepting.

“if you really want to,” jaebum says slowly, but even the sharpness of his eyes barely leaves a scratch compared to the gashes jinyoung carves into yugyeom’s back, “you can come back sometime next month and audition.”

yugyeom nods, heart pounding in his ears. jaebum glances at jinyoung, just over yugyeom’s shoulder, and the younger boy can’t help but feel like there’s a separate conversation being whispered in their gazes.

“actually,” jinyoung says suddenly, and yugyeom takes a little comfort in the way jaebum’s eyebrows shoot up, like he’s just as off guard as yugyeom is, “if you want to join so badly, why don’t you just audition right now?”

there’s quiet for a moment, one where yugyeom’s heart deadens inside his chest and everything seems to narrow down to the challenge in jinyoung’s eyes.

then jaebum makes a quiet noise of protest, and suddenly the world blurs back to normal; yugyeom has to force his eyes back on jaebum, swallows, breathes in, and then,

“okay.”

yugyeom revels in the way jinyoung’s smiles a little at that, off guard and genuine, too instinctual for the boy to remember to cover it.

jaebum, on the other hand, looks more flustered than anything else.

“you don’t have to,” he says quickly, but jinyoung is leaning back in his spot, expectant and bright in a way that yugyeom hadn’t thought the older boy could ever seem, so he pushes through. when he shakes his head, determined, jaebum only mumbles something under his breath and shrinks back down, acquiescent. “whenever you’re ready.”

yugyeom can’t help the nerves that stagger along his veins, heavy and insistent as they do nothing but weigh him down and swallow him whole. he barely even remembers himself,  so consumed with nervousness and adrenaline that his existence blurs out at the edges.

“we’re waiting.” jinyoung murmurs, a spark of amusement dotting at the edges of his words; jaebum shoots him a glare, but yugyeom only forces a smile, nervousness bubbling up in his chest as he tries to ease his nerves.

it takes every inch of confidence that he has to simply force the air out of his lungs; the first few words past his lips are broken and awkward, scraping like shattered glass in the silent room. jaebum cringes a little, but when yugyeom glances over to where jinyoung is sitting, bright and patient, yugyeom takes another breath and prays he sounds better.

he’s not quite sure what song he’s singing, only that it’s something slow and angry that he heard on his cousin’s radio the other week, a bitter tune that he couldn’t get out of his head for days.

he can’t bring himself to focus on anything other than the look in jinyoung’s eyes, something bright and beautiful and completely free. it suits him, yugyeom thinks belatedly, and he wishes that he were lucky enough to see it more often.

he trails off at some point, lyrics forgotten in the corner of the car he first heard it in, but jaebum looks approving and jinyoung is grinning at him, and yugyeom feels like flying.

“i’ll be in touch,” jaebum smiles, but yugyeom doesn’t miss the appraising look he sends jinyoung, “you’re pretty good.”

yugyeom bows his head, grateful, as jaebum pushes himself to his feet and makes as to leave.

“seriously,” jaebum adds, stopping by the school exit to turn around and shoot yugyeom another gentle grin, “good job.”

yugyeom murmurs his thanks, blush dusting over his cheeks as jinyoung rises to stand beside him.

“not bad.” jinyoung hums, and when he holds out his hand, yugyeom barely hesitates before taking it. he doesn’t speak his gratitude, instead settling on smiling at the older boy as they make their way outside and to the field by the side of the school.

they sit down, silent, as jinyoung spends his time adjusting by watching the tree’s branches sway. yugyeom’s still hesitant, but he’s spurred on by a newfound sense of passion and possibility, so he lays by jinyoung’s side, grin still present, and lets himself feel comfortable.

their hands always seem to find each other somehow, even with the wind combing through their hair and the push of leaves beneath their bones. it’s at times like this that yugyeom feels like a sort of magnet, existing for no other purpose than to find jinyoung time and time again.

another leaf flutters to the ground, lazy turns tracing loops in the air, and yugyeom meets jinyoung’s eyes with only the slightest bit of hesitance.

jinyoung smiles, soft and sweet even above the autumn leaves, and yugyeom knows that this is how they were meant to be- two boys, sad and angry and confused, underneath a dying tree with a calm only found in each other’s hands.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaAAAAH congrats, you reached the end !! :'))  
> thank u so so much for reading this, and i really hope you enjoyed it. i spent a ridiculous amount of time just trying to figure out where i wanted to go with this, so i hope you guys think it turned out well!  
> as always, kudos are great, bookmarks are lovely, and comments are super amazing !!! all of ur support is so so appreciated, and it really does help keep me going <33  
> if you guys need anything (or just want to chat !!), feel free to hmu on tumblr @y-ug or twitter @phigyeom !!


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